


Missing Light

by AltheaShepard



Series: The Paths of the Dawn [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ravus isn't an asshole, much - Freeform, papa cor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:13:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltheaShepard/pseuds/AltheaShepard
Summary: It rained the day of Regis's greatest failure. The day his son went missing. Years later, the search continues despite advise to choose a new heir.
Relationships: Cor Leonis & Prompto Argentum, Noctis Lucis Caelum & Regis Lucis Caelum, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric
Series: The Paths of the Dawn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944922
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Another plot bunny has hopped its way into my path and I couldn't ignore it so, here you go! Without spoiling too much, I will say in later chapters that there will be allusions to torture, child abuse, attempted murder, attempted regicide, theological zealotry and revenge. It won't be all dark, this will ultimately end up a happy story but, yeah. 
> 
> Tell me what you think?

The breeze from the open window at his back is cool, the skin against his chest sleep warm and soft. His nose burrows a little further into the hair before him, breathing in the scent of hibiscus and spice from his shampoo and the faint almost ozone tinge that just naturally hangs around his partner. Gently, his fingers tighten on the shoulder he holds, legs tangling just a little more with the other’s, wanting to cling a moment longer before he has to admit the inevitable. There’s time yet, though, the sun isn’t thinking of rising for another hour at least. He can almost fool himself into thinking he has that long to savor this, this moment where his partner still sleeps and he can linger in that blissful haze of not quite sleep but not quite awake where everything is soft around the edges and he can breathe the scent of his hair into his lungs, commit the feel of his skin against his to memory along with all the others. 

Slowly, softly, the body before him turns, arms wrapping around his waist and a nose pressing to the hollow between his collar bones. They breathe, slow and easy, fingers tracing absent patterns against the others’ skin, memorizing every scar and mole, the feel of hard muscle just underneath. Eyes closed, their lips meet, part, caress, rest, a lingering, precious dance they’ve come to savor in their time together. These stolen moments of time they speak of to no one despite how much his heart wishes he could. But he won’t. He can’t betray the other’s trust in him, the trust in keeping their secret until he’s ready. 

The morning’s spell breaks with the first chirping of the early morning birds, bringing him one step closer to awareness. One step closer to the part he loathes with every fiber of his being. The part where he has to let go. 

His partner sighs, breath rushing against his lips and chin, face burrowing back into his neck. His own arms tighten around him, fingers combing through the midnight dark mop of hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. Neither of them wants to speak first, wants to break the spell further. But they have to. He knows from long practice that he can only stay another five, maybe ten minutes before Libertus comes knocking to get him moving. Back to the front lines, to the war they’re all sick of fighting but will fight anyway if it gets them one step closer to getting their homes back (a futile hope at this rate). 

“Make time stop,” His partner whispers, lips brushing against his skin sending shivers down his spine.

“I wish I could,” he sighs in return, pressing a kiss against his forehead before he props himself up on his elbow.

His partner lets him go, hands drifting from his back to rest on his waist and bicep. Sleepy grey blue eyes blink up at him through soot dark lashes, warm and inviting and oh so terribly tempting. He can’t help leaning down to get a proper taste of those lips, pressing the words he can’t say into the caress.

“How long?”

“A few weeks. Then I’m back in Insomnia.” 

Those lashes he’s kissed a hundred times flutter against pale cheeks, another sigh escaping petal soft lips. 

“Still can’t get you to come with me?”

“No more than I can get you to come with me,”

They trade thin smiles, meeting for another kiss before a light knock warns him that he has to move. Reluctantly, he pulls himself away, pulling his uniform on in the dark in record time. He sits on the edge of the bed to pull his boots on, smiling when his partner curls over his back, arms hugging his shoulders, turning his head enough to catch the kiss on his lips instead of his cheek.

“Stay safe for me,” is a whispered order he’ll happily obey.

“Only if you stay safe for me,”

He’s graced with a smile and one last kiss before he’s up and out the door, duffel slung over his shoulder and door shutting quietly behind him. It kills him to leave, his arms already feeling empty, skin cold, heart yearning. Libertus thankfully keeps his mouth shut as they head down the narrow hall of the motel they managed to snag for a few nights of respite from the front lines. Lestallum is slowly coming to life around them once they step outside, lights coming on in buildings as they head for where they know the truck is parked waiting for them. A handful of other Glaives fall in around them, stretching and yawning and grumbling about going back. Libertus slings an arm around his shoulders, the only thing preventing him from looking back, from being able to spot the figure watching from the open window.

The figure that watches until he can’t watch anymore, that slowly curls back into the rapidly cooling spot left behind and watches the tops of the buildings to see the sun starting to lighten the sky. He allows himself a few more minutes, closing his eyes to remember the precious few nights of peace he gets ever so rarely. A little voice in the back of his mind whispers that he could go with his Glaive, that he could stay with him. But it would get complicated and he isn’t ready for complicated yet. It’s complicated enough keeping the secret, keeping so many secrets. A sigh leaves his lips, eyes blinking open again to see the sky a little lighter, light enough that he needs to move himself or the bed will keep him one day more than he can afford. Carefully setting aside the yearning, he pulls himself from the bed and gets himself ready for his own journey.

_ Stay safe for me. _


	2. Chapter 2

It had rained that morning, the morning of Regis’s greatest failure. 

_ A terrible storm only rivaled by the one that had lashed the Citadel the day Aulea had died. Foolishly, he’d merely thought it a terrible storm, not the warning that it was. Wind and rain battered the Citadel and there was talk of possible flooding in Insomnia and passing worry about the severity of the storm beyond the wall. The storm, however, was put out from everyone’s mind when the King stumbled walking down the hall, clutching his chest. A breath later, as his Shield braced him, asking after his well being, an alarm sounded. A fire had somehow broken out in the Royal Apartments, fierce and roaring, eating quickly at everything it could reach.  _

_ The Crownsguard rushed to the scene, trying to put the fire out. Recklessly, Cor Leonis rushed into the flames, his only concern for the young Prince no doubt inside. What he found would no doubt haunt him till his dying day. _

_ Several agonizing minutes passed as the flames were battled into submission. In that time, Regis had rushed upstairs, Clarus not a step behind him, heart racing in his chest and dread coiling in his gut. He knew what he would find. He knew but couldn’t accept it. Couldn’t believe it. The Guard tried to keep him back, pleading with their King about the danger still present but Regis would hear none of it. He ducked around them, into the apartments, coughing at the smoke. _

_ “Cor!” He called, knowing his friend would have likely rushed inside after his son.  _

_ “Cor! Answer me!”  _

_ There was a cough a few rooms away and a thud. Clarus kept himself in front of Regis as they moved down the hall to the nursery. Just outside the wide door sat Cor, clothes still smoking as Monica tried to pat the flames out. Clarus quickly darted to his side, his paling face all the sign Regis needed to dig out a hi-potion from the armiger and crack it over the Marshall’s head as he knelt by them. Cor’s eyes were squeezed shut, from the pain of the burns littering his arms under his burnt clothes or the brief respite the hi-potion gave him, Regis didn’t know.  _

_ “Cor,” he spoke carefully, hiding the tremor in his voice. “Cor, what happened?” _

_ The Marshall was quiet for several moments, pulling in a deep breath that led to a coughing fit. Clarus patted his back quickly, checking his vitals as he let the man recover. _

_ “Cor,” Regis pleaded. _

_ “I don’t know,” Cor rasped, waving Monica away, wincing and moving to try and pull his jacket off.  _

_ “I don’t know how it started but,”  _

_ Cor’s head jerked up, eyes wide and quickly scrambling to his feet. Clarus and Monica couldn’t hold him, Regis quickly following the few steps to the ruined nursery. _

_ The ruined, empty nursery. _

_ “Where is Noctis?” Regis asked, though it was like speaking through a wall of water. _

_ “Where is my son?” _

“Everything alright, Regis?”

The cup being held out to him breaks him from his thoughts. With a long slow blink, Regis looks away from the fire and up to the kind grey eyes of Ventus, patiently offering him a cup of coffee. He takes it carefully with a faint smile and a nod of gratitude, sipping the warm brew.

“Apologies, Ventus. The rain distracts me.”

Ventus simply nods, already preparing a cup of coffee for Clarus in the chair next to him. 

“I certainly can’t blame you for needing a distraction after that farce they called a council meeting.”

Regis’s lip curled as Clarus groaned, head thumping back against the high back of his chair. Wordlessly, Ventus took Regis’s cup back, pouring a splash of something amber and likely highly alcoholic into it before handing it back, giving his and Clarus’s the same treatment. 

“They’re under the impression that I’m fit for the grave and they’ll need to declare a new ruler any day now. As if I’d allow that to happen.”

Clarus couldn’t help a chuckle as he cracked his neck.

“I’ve been saying for years that you’ll live long enough to see the last of them dead and buried out of spite. And every attempt they make just makes me more certain of it.” 

Settling on the couch, Ventus chuckles. 

“I’m quite certain the Lady Lunafreya would assist you in that, Majesty.”

“If Ravus doesn’t kill the council first and eliminate the problem entirely.” 

Regis hides his smile behind his cup, remembering the sour look on Ravus’s face as he stood behind Lunafreya during the meeting. He had been rather impressed that the vitriol he could spot in the young man’s eyes had stayed put, mollified a touch perhaps by the cool way Lunafreya had shot down the suggestion of a new heir to the throne. The Glacian herself would have been impressed, Regis is sure. 

“Don’t give him any ideas, Clarus. He might just ask Cor for assistance.”

“Now who’s giving him ideas?” 

Clarus raises an eyebrow at his King, not bothering to hide his smirk.

“Perhaps I should give the idea to Cor then. Might keep him in the city long enough.”

The bitterness in his own voice is somewhat surprising but perhaps a long time coming. 

“How long has been gone this time?” Ventus asks, posture relaxed though his gaze is sharp. 

Regis pretends to think about it though the exact timing he’s been keeping track of since Cor left the walls of Insomnia. Over the years, the expeditions have grown less frequent but longer, sometimes months at a time, triggered by some rumor from a hunter contact. A part of him always wants to tell his friend that he needn’t try so hard, that he needn’t jump at the slightest whisper and chase down every lead no matter how vague. But the other part, the truly selfish part, can’t do it. Can’t ask the other man to stay close, to let the rumors pass him by. 

“Almost three months.” Is the answer he comes up with. 

Ventus gives him a look, eyebrow rising deliberately slowly as he takes a sip of coffee.

“He should be back soon, then,”

“Mm. If he doesn’t run into any more trouble.”

“It’s Cor,” Clarus mutters, “Trouble has a way of finding him,”

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


He could already hear Cid’s bitching in his head. Scowling down at the flat tire of the jeep, Cor heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. He’d thought the thing could handle a little off roading, especially since he didn’t think the jeep would be fond of getting trampled by a herd of Anak but apparently, it would have preferred to be trampled. 

“Why is it always something?” He grumbles and goes about getting the tire changed.

The job that should only take maybe ten minutes ends up taking thirty with a lot of cursing and a brief thought of just setting the thing ablaze and walking to Lestallum but the thought of even more bitching from Cid just makes him suck it up and get the stupid tire changed. He manages to roll into Lestallum later than he wanted to, closer to sundown. As he turns to head down the short ramp to the parking lot, he spots a blonde hopping off the wall and trotting after him. The faint smirk curling the corner of his mouth is something he really can’t help. He barely has the door open before the boy is scolding him.

“You’re late you know. By like, a whole day and a half! I thought you’d gotten eaten or something!” 

Chuckling, he reaches over and ruffles his hair, much to the boy’s irritation if the squawk of outrage is anything to go by. 

“Your magpie tendencies are rubbing off on me, clearly,”

The boy scowls at him, only managing to hold the look for a moment before he’s letting out a gusty breath and punching him on the arm.

“They have these awesome inventions called phones,”

“And last I knew, you broke yours,” 

And the scowl was back accompanied by a flush of embarrassment.

“That was Dave’s fault! He startled me and it tumbled out of my pocket over the cliff I was on and startled the pack we were tracking!”

“A pack you were trying to get pictures of,”

He slings an arm around the boy’s shoulders, dragging him along back up the hill despite his protests. At the top, he lets him go, snorting as he slaps at his arm and attempts to fix his chocobo’s nest of hair. The floodlights start to come on, bathing the area in light, the string lights between the buildings softening the harsh glow. 

“At least I’m in time for dinner,”

The boy snorts, trotting to keep up with him as he heads down the main street.

“Yeah and you’re paying for it. And no cup noodles! I had those for lunch and they’re a wreck on my figure.”

The sniff of disdain has him shaking his head, briefly thinking back to a young man that would argue with him. 

“I know someone that would argue with you about that,”

“You’re a very argumentative person so you probably know a lot of people,”

He lunges at the boy in retaliation, sending him skittering off with a shriek and a laugh. 

“Pick where you want to get food from, Prompto, and we’ll take it back to your place,”

Prompto grins, bouncing in place for a moment before darting off again, waving frantically to get his attention by a food stall. Food bought and bagged, he lets Prompto’s chatter roll over him, strolling down the street and casually taking in the city. There are a few improvements from the last time he was here, stronger defenses from what he can tell, though granted it’s only been a few months since his last visit. Prompto takes the stairs up two at a time until they reach the fourth floor, digging in his pockets for his keys and pushing the door open. Cor passes over the food, toeing his shoes off at the door and locking the door behind them, looking carefully around the small apartment. 

It’s clean, thankfully. The table in the far corner is littered with various parts; wires, gun barrels, a circuit board or two and various tools. The door to the bedroom at the end of the short hall is open and he can tell that’s where most of the disaster is. He knows that the spare bedroom is likely still clean from his last visit and he’ll be thankful to have a bed for the night. Pleased with his inspection, he turns to the open kitchen and finds Prompto staring at him with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk. He’s unapologetic as he sits at the table and digs out his food. 

“You just missed Nox, by the way. He left super early this morning though he wouldn’t tell me where he was going this time, the jerk,”

Cor pats himself on the back for not reacting to the name. The first time he’d heard it, he’d had to have Prompto repeat it, certain he’d heard wrong. Were the situation different he’d scold the Prince for taking such an on the nose name but, as he’d unfortunately never been in the same room as the boy, he never had the opportunity. Hell, the only reason he was certain Nox was who he was looking for was because Prompto was so endearingly and disgustingly friendly and not shy about roping people into range of his camera.

“Didn’t say how long he’d be gone?” he asks, knowing the worry Prompto is no doubt trying to mask.

“No. Said it might be for a few weeks but he wasn’t sure,”

Cor hums a bit, reaching over and ruffling Prompto’s hair. 

“He’ll be back. Probably with some other weird trinket for you.”

“They’re not weird!”

Cor glances over to the shelf in the living room littered with odd little nick nacks. A chocobo statuette, a clearly antique and rusted to hell gun, a blue teardrop shaped gem and a tiny tin shield with a cactaur on it. His gaze slides back to Prompto, the raised eyebrow all he needs to communicate his disbelief. Prompto just sticks his tongue out at him and digs into his food. 

“I’ll be staying for a few days this time. Last stop before I have to head back to Insomnia,”

“Still won’t take me with you?”

With a chuckle, Cor shakes his head.

“You’re better off out here than stuck behind some wall, kid. Plus I think Dave would skin me alive for taking his best sniper,”

Prompto heaves another sigh, eating another bite of food before a lightbulb goes off over his head.

“Oh yeah! Speaking of Dave…”

Cor listens as he eats, letting his shoulders relax by degrees. He’s getting closer to his goal and though it kills him to have to leave before his target is back in range, he’ll have to settle for the baby step of progress that this is. Maybe if he tells himself that enough, he’ll believe it.


End file.
